


I Can't Sing A Love Song The Way It's Meant To Be

by bowlingfornerds



Series: long fics [6]
Category: The 100
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Driving, F/M, Teacher!Bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 04:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4904731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowlingfornerds/pseuds/bowlingfornerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke fell in love with the open road at age nine. She and her father drove two hundred miles to be at her mother’s ceremony; opening a new hospital as the Chief of Medicine, and had elected to drive the entire way instead of taking a plane. At age seventeen, she passed her driver’s test on her first go, stopping off by the graveyard ten blocks from her house to show her father the papers. At age twenty, she gave up her degree entirely, set herself in her truck, and pressed her foot down on the accelerator.</p><p>Clarke's been driving for as long as she can remember, and she's just figuring out that maybe she should put the car in park, and stay in one place for once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Sing A Love Song The Way It's Meant To Be

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Bon Jovi - Always.

Clarke fell in love with the open road at age nine. She and her father drove two hundred miles to be at her mother’s ceremony; opening a new hospital as the Chief of Medicine, and had elected to drive the entire way instead of taking a plane. They’d made it with an hour to spare; after a day of heat scorching at her bare legs, propped up on the dashboard, and her father’s music blaring from the speakers. She’d learned the words to every Bon Jovi song during that trip, and sung them loudly with her father; her tiny, shrill voice accompanying his loud, deep one.

Although she found out the day after the trip was done that she would be leaving her home, to live in Polis, because of her mother’s new job, Clarke still recounted it as the moment she decided that driving was it for her. She just wanted to drive, for the rest of her life.

At age seventeen, she passed her driver’s test on her first go, stopping off by the graveyard ten blocks from her house to show her father the papers. Her mother bought her a new car, for the occasion, and Clarke accepted it only because it was the blue truck she’d wanted, not the BMW Abby Griffin had been leaning towards.

She couldn’t find just any old job to satisfy her needs to drive. Clarke had started off studying Medicine in University and quickly changed to Art. At age twenty, she gave up her degree entirely, set herself in her truck, and pressed her foot down on the accelerator.

 

-

 

“I’m a cowboy!” Clarke sang, windows rolled down at cool air slapping at her face. “On a steal horse I ride! I’m wanted – _wanted!_ – dead or alive!” She changed lanes on the motorway, noticing a sign that said the way she was going, she was likely to hit traffic. Clarke had no clue where she was going – she rarely did.

Clarke would drive for a couple of days, and set up shop in whatever town she landed in. Usually, she’d get a job for a few days, earn enough money for gas and start up once more. She loved it. She loved the way her hair whipped about her face, in the breeze; the way she could feel the engine thrum under her; the fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view mirror – the same ones her father used to own.

She saw a sign for Ark, on her right, and pursed her lips in thought. Clarke had lived there until age nine, and now, at twenty one, she’d been driving around the town, but never going back into it. On a spur-of-the-moment decision, Clarke switched lanes again, heading for the place she was born.

 

-

 

Clarke’s memories of Ark were sparse.

She remembered a young Latina – Raven – who held her hand in the playground and pulled her around with a grin. She remembered Raven’s house – or flat – and the needle she stepped on, the first time she went there. She remembered the way Raven rushed her into the bathroom and cleaned up her foot with hand soap.

Clarke also remembered Finn – a pale boy with brown hair and a wide smile; the final part of their trio. Finn and Raven were next door neighbours, and Clarke had always felt lucky to be a part of their group.

After Clarke left to Polis, without knowing in advance, she exchanged a single email with her childhood best friend. Raven never replied, and Clarke moved on.

 

-

 

Ark was nothing how she remembered it to be – but, then again, it had been twelve years. What she used to think was a massive town; with big buildings and loud voices; was actually small and quiet. She was the only car on the road as she entered; a flower display on her left of pansies, spelling out the word ‘Ark’. It was pretty quaint; flowers in baskets hanging from houses, a fountain in the middle of a roundabout. Clarke passed a road she knew would lead to the edge of town; the row of apartment complexes with dark, peeling walls and fire escapes.

But it was surreal to her; the way in which her memory had made the place seem more daunting; more dangerous. In reality, the roads were named after philosophers and writers, and there was a tiny university with a decent night life and small amount of dorms.

Clarke drove slowly through the town; taking up the empty roads and looking, wide eyed, at her surroundings. She had no idea where she was going; her nine year old self hadn’t memorised the hotel locations, and Clarke knew that turning on her phone to look would be subjecting herself to the rounds of texts that she hadn’t replied.

Instead, she kept on driving until she saw something worth stopping for.

It was a garage; a rundown car shop with a couple of drill-like sounds, coming from inside. Clarke had been driving Scout – what she and Wells had named the truck (after the protagonist of her father’s favourite book _, To Kill A Mockingbird_ ) – for approximately four years, without taking her in for a tune up. And there was a sign on the door, white words on red plastic, that there was a sale.

Clarke couldn’t turn that down.

She slowed Scout and pulled into the drive way, up the ramp, letting the shade of the building melt over the metal of her car. Then, she parked it and stepped out, taking a deep, cooling breath.

The garage was ninety percent concrete, she noticed; shelves of tin cans and tools on the left hand wall, and an office to the right. It went back further than she expected, with four cars parked, and one being looked at by a surly man with a drill.

“Hello?” Clarke called out, looking around. She pulled her hair out of her eyes, tying it up in a loose knot with the hairband from her wrist.

“Hey,” a voice said, and Clarke’s head snapped around to find the owner. “What can I do you for?” It was a woman; brown skin and long, dark hair, pulled up into a ponytail. She was gorgeous, to put it short, and Clarke let her eyes run up and down the girl for a moment before replying.

“Uh, my car,” she replied, jerking a thumb in the direction of Scout. The girl snorted.

“No kidding – you’re in a car shop.” Clarke rolled her eyes, nodding and then trying to speak again. It had been a long time since she’d had a conversation with another person.

“I’ve had her for four years, and I’ve never had her looked at,” Clarke explained. “I guess I want to make sure everything’s good before I keep driving.” The girl nodded, glancing at the blue truck parked in the drive way.

“Bring her up here, and I’ll take a look,” she nodded. Clarke turned and followed her instructions, stepping out and slamming the door shut as she left. The girl was immediately lifting the hood and taking a look at the engine.

“Planning a trip, then?” She asked. Clarke raised an eyebrow.

“Why’d you think that?”

“People tend to get tune ups if they’re about to go on a long drive,” she replied. Clarke shook her head, leaning against the car.

“No, I’ve been doing the long drive for the past year – I guess I want to make sure it’s good to keep going.” The girl only spared her a single curious glance, before reaching over to her tool box, on a wheeling table, and getting stuck back into the car.

“So you just ended up in Ark?” She asked next.

“Everyone ends up here eventually,” Clarke replied, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. It was true – at least, that’s what her parents used to say. Ark had a strange allure about it; everyone would pass through it at least once in their lives; a town that shakes you about and leaves you reeling when you go.

“Don’t they always,” the girl mused.

“I used to live here, though,” Clarke continued. “Moved when I was nine, and thought I’d come back.”

“No kidding,” was the response. The girl straightened up, her hands on the edge of the truck. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Clarke,” she replied with a smile. The girl nodded, her face a little blank.

“No kidding,” she breathed. Clarke furrowed her brow at the stranger, and the girl moved forward, dumping the rag in her hand on the trolley next to her. “Raven Reyes,” the girl replied, hand stuck out in front of her. Clarke swallowed, looking the girl up at down once more.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, moving her hand forward immediately, shaking Raven’s. Raven tugged on the other girl, though, pulling her in for a crashing hug.

“Holy shit, indeed,” Raven grinned into the blonde’s ear. The two girls laughed, pulling apart and staring at each other once again. Raven’s skin was the same shade, and her eyes the same brown that Clarke remembered. She’d grown up from tall and awkward, to taller and beautiful, and Clarke was amazed.

“How are you?” Clarke asked as Raven moved away and back to the engine at hand. She shrugged.

“I’m doing good – I’m engaged.”

“No way.”

“Yeah – you remember Finn, right?” If it were possible for Clarke’s eyes to grow any wider, they would have.

“Of course I do!” She grinned. “He always had a crush on you.” Raven ducked her head, staring pointedly at the truck.

“Well we’ve been engaged for a couple of months now.” She looked back up again. “You have to come out with us, tonight – a bunch of us are going to Grounders.”

“Grounders?”

“A local bar – it’s literally right across the road.” Clarke turned her head to look, but couldn’t see a sign with that name. Raven shrugged. “Okay, around the corner – but it’s super close. Where are you staying?”

“I don’t know yet – I’m going to look for a motel later.” Raven scrunched up her nose, using her hand to twist off a cap.

“Don’t do that – you can stay with me and Finn.”

“Raven-“

“No, seriously. We’ve got a spare room; have ever since my roommate moved out when Finn moved in. There’s a bed and everything.” Clarke scoffed.

“You’re not even going to make me sleep on the sofa?”

“Exactly,” Raven smiled. “You’re getting special treatment and everything.” Clarke couldn’t really help but accept the offer.

 

-

 

Raven’s flat was in a slightly nicer part of town than where she’d grown up. She was on the sixth floor, admittedly, and when Clarke parked Scout outside (there was nothing exceptionally wrong with her that Raven hadn’t been able to fix within a couple of hours), she raised her eyebrows at the height of the building.

“I know – but it’s good exercise,” Raven replied with a shrug. Clarke yanked her duffle bag out from the bed of the truck, and carried it up the stairs. She found herself heaving a little by the fourth floor, and Raven laughed.

Her flat was quite small; a kitchen and living room in one; the only break would be the lino on the floor turning into carpet, and a small bathroom off to the right. On the other side of the living room were two doors, which Raven said were the bedrooms. She lead Clarke into the right hand one; boxes lining one wall and dust floating through the air when they pulled back the curtains.

The room was small and largely unfurnished, but Clarke didn’t mind. She’d only be staying for a few days, anyway. She dumped her bag on her new bed, and followed Raven out into the living room. There, they sat and talked for a while longer.

She found out that Raven was in university, for mechanics, and Finn was studying environmental politics. They had been dating since they were fifteen, and Raven’s mother killed herself by an overdose. Raven had moved in with the Collins family until she was eighteen, when she got her own place.

Likewise, Raven learned of Clarke’s father’s death, when she was thirteen, and Clarke’s brief stints in university. She didn’t question her need to drive, and the way she’d been travelling with quick jobs here and there. Nor did she wonder over her having to turn her phone on, when Raven wanted her number, and the amount of times it vibrated – to which Clarke just swiped the notifications away and didn’t look into them.

By this time, Finn arrived home.

He was, mostly, how she remembered him to be. He wasn’t the tallest – Raven beat him out by an inch or two – and his hair was dark brown and floppy. His smile was still wide, though, and his eyes inquisitive. Raven stood up to greet him, and introduced Clarke as ‘that little blonde girl we were friends with as children’. Finn’s smile could have cured diseases when he connected the dots, and the hug he pulled her into was bone-crushing.

“I also told her she could stay in the spare room,” Raven added when Clarke was getting her breath back. Finn nodded.

“Obviously. How long are you staying for?”

“Not long,” Clarke shrugged. “Long enough to see everything and get back on the road again, I guess.” The looks from her friends were dubious, though.

“Clarke – this is your home, you can’t just leave so quickly,” Finn insisted. “Besides, there’s way too much to see in such a short amount of time.” Clarke shrugged once more, flopping back onto the sofa.

“I’ll get a job for a week or so,” she informed them. “Get enough money to get me somewhere else, and then I’ll disappear. Sort of how I work, right now.” They both looked at her with mirroring concerned looks, but neither commented on it. Then, Finn changed the subject to going to Grounders, and the conversation was lost.

 

-

 

Clarke wore her only dress that she had. It was cream, with a pale-coloured floral imprint across the fabric. With a low circle neck line, it was tight around her torso; sleeves reaching her elbows; and them flaring out at the waist. Although it only just reached above her knee, she found herself to be exceptionally comfortable in it; remembering when she went and bought it with Wells; his eyes practically popping out of his face when he saw her leave the changing room.

Raven insisted she wore a pair of her heels, and Clarke tied her hair up more neatly than it had been throughout the day. Strangely, she felt better than she had in a long time.

They walked to Grounders, Clarke noticing the groups of people standing by it on the pavement as they walked. Raven and Finn were beside her, hand in hand, pointing out different buildings in the dying light; places they would walk past on their way to school, or the home of the old lady with the snake that was rumoured to have killed people. Clarke let their voices wash over her as she walked, relishing in the moments of having them back in her life.

She hadn’t realised how much she’d been missing them.

Grounders was a bar, with wooden floors and tables; a dark mahogany bar, and a juke box in the far end. It was busy, but not noisily so; just the sounds of laughter and talking rising from various booths around the pub. They stopped off at the bar first, where Clarke ordered a Jack and Coke, before following the two to the back.

She noticed the table that they were headed for was already fairly packed, and Clarke wondered how she was supposed to fit in with so many new people.

“Guys,” Raven announced as they neared the table. Six heads looked up in unison. “This is Clarke Griffin – she was my best friend when I was little, and she’s in town for a little while. Clarke, these are my best friends now.” Clarke held a hand to her chest in mock hurt.

“You _replaced_ me?” She asked and Raven grinned back, pushing her in the direction of the empty seat in the booth. She and Finn brought over chairs as Clarke glanced around the group of strangers.

“I’m Octavia,” a girl started from across the table. She was the only other girl there; unfairly pretty with long brown hair and a perfect jaw. Her smile was blinding and Clarke smiled back, aware that hers was mediocre in comparison. “Call me O. I used to be Raven’s roommate.”

“So I’m sleeping in your bedroom?” Clarke asked, glancing from the girl to Raven. The latter of the two girls nodded as she sat down.

“That’s her. And that one there is her brother, Bellamy.” Clarke looked to where she was nodding; next to O was a man, obviously tall, with dark curly hair and tanned skin. He wasn’t smiling, but he nodded in greeting, before lifting his pint glass to his lips. Clarke’s eyes lingered on him for a moment too long, in retrospect; she noticed his dark eyes and how he was possibly a little older than her, before swallowing and tearing her gaze away.

“They’re Monty, Jasper, Murphy and Miller,” Raven continued obliviously, nodding towards the other four men. Clarke looked them over one at a time; until she reached the one sitting next to her, supposedly Monty.

“Hello,” she smiled.

“So you used to live around here?” One of the men – possibly Miller – asked. Clarke nodded.

“Moved when I was nine.”

“And it took you _twelve_ _years_ to come back?” This question came from a man with a boyish face and a pair of goggles hanging from his neck. Clarke nodded absently.

“Hadn’t thought about it, honestly,” she shrugged.

“I’ve been here for two years,” he continued. Clarke thought his name was Jasper. “I can’t really imagine ever leaving.” Across the table, O and Bellamy groaned in unison.

“God,” Bellamy complained. “He’s never leaving.” Clarke smiled as Raven snickered.

“Oh, you love me.” Jasper rolled his eyes with a wave of his hand.

“If I did I would have let you live in my apartment when you got evicted last week,” Bellamy retorted. Jasper glared for a moment before shrugging.

“Why’d you get evicted?” Clarke asked, leaning forward to look around Monty. Jasper’s face suddenly turned guilty and both of the boys looked at their glasses. She glanced around at the knowing expressions, raising her eyebrows.

“They grew stuff,” O informed her.

“ _Stuff_?” She questioned. Finn coughed.

“Illegal stuff,” he explained. Clarke nodded slowly, catching on and sitting back in her seat.

“You don’t know any cops, right?” Monty asked. Clarke cracked a smile.

“I know the Chief of Police in Polis,” she replied simply. The two widened their eyes for a moment as Raven grinned, and the others at the table watched in amusement.

“You’re not going to tell them though, right?” Jasper asked hurriedly. Clarke shrugged, taking a purposely slow sip from her glass.

“Depends if you buy my next drink or not,” she replied, and she knew there was a gleam in her eye. The two boys nodded as O and Raven cackled in unison. She glanced around the table again, to see the other boys nodding and smiling.

“I like this one,” the man – Murphy? – said, nodding over.

“We should keep her,” Miller agreed. Clarke didn’t mention that the Chief of Police was her step father, Marcus Kane, or that she hadn’t seen him since he married her mother.

 

-

 

On her second day in Ark, Clarke wandered through town, looking for job openings. She walked into every shop, no matter what it was, and left her CV there, with them. She didn’t really care where she working, as long as it got her enough money to fill up the tank of Scout and get her somewhere new.

Even so, as she agreed to an interview, that afternoon on the phone, Clarke felt a little guilty over attempting to leave Ark.

Maybe it was that she’d already left it once before, and she had hated it so much back then. Or, maybe it was that she had been reunited with her childhood friends – and she’d already disappeared from their lives once. But, possibly, it was the approving looks she’d been receiving, the night before, from the people around the table at Grounders – looks she hadn’t been getting in over a year, since she left Polis.

“Look at me,” she smiled when she entered Raven’s flat. “I have a job interview for tomorrow.” Raven raised an eyebrow from where she stood by the oven.

“Is this a settling down kind of job, or a I-need-money kind of job?” She questioned.

“The second one,” Clarke replied, dropping her backpack onto the sofa. Raven sighed but didn’t say a thing, and Finn did the same when he asked, later.

 

-

 

By her fourth day back in Ark, Clarke was working at the tiny art supply store on the high street. She was actually pretty happy that she nailed the interview there, instead of having to say yes to the fish and chips shop that had called twenty minutes after.

She walked through the door, smiling at the sound of the bell ringing and found herself behind the counter soon after. She knew how to use the till from her various jobs beforehand, and her boss, Sinclair, was a nice man who offered her five pound an hour – which she was happy to take.

The shop was pretty slow, but she sold some sketchbooks to a couple people, as well as some paints and pens, so Clarke didn’t mind all that much.

That evening, she returned to Raven’s flat to find Finn just leaving.

“Oh, hey,” he smiled as they bumped into each other in the doorway. “I’m just heading out – Raven left a note for you on the kitchen counter.”

“Oh, okay,” she nods. “What about?”

“Shopping,” he shrugged, shouldering his bag and walking down the hall. He seemed in a rush, so Clarke called her goodbye and went inside. Like he’d said, there was a note on the counter, written in Raven’s messy scrawl, about going grocery shopping. She’d drawn a crude map on the reverse side of the paper as to where the shop was, as well as a list of items they would need. There were a couple of notes on the counter, but Clarke knew they wouldn’t be enough – she guessed this was the part where she paid her way through living with them.

She decided to drive Scout, glancing at the map on the seat next to her every now and again until she found the large, brightly lit sign, and a car park. When she pulled in, she switched off the music – ‘Happy Now’ cut off in the middle of a word – and stepped out.

Driving a truck and driving a trolley were two very different things. Clarke was good at the former; she could tell when it needed fuel without looking, and it was as smooth a ride as she was going to manage. The latter, however, was a bane of her existence. The wheels spun randomly, taking her trolley in different directions, making the cart wobble as she walked. It also didn’t have a brake mechanism, meaning that when she wanted to stop, the trolley would often keep going, just a little bit, suddenly tugging on her arms.

She didn’t go shopping very often; usually Clarke would pick up anything that didn’t need to be frozen, or heated, and stuff them into a basket, hoping she had enough crumpled notes in her pocket to subside. So it was odd, to Clarke, over the pure range of choices of one type of food. It was as she stood in the meat isle, frowning at packs of sausages, that a body appeared next to her.

“Don’t glare so hard, you’ll make a hole in the bag,” the voice said. It was deep, calming, and Clarke looked up to find Bellamy leaning on his trolley next to her, a smirk playing about his lips. She huffed, looking back to the sausages.

“There’s just too many types,” she informed him.

“Have you never _been_ shopping before?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Clarke shrugged.

“Not for frozen food. Which one does Raven have?” Bellamy looked over the options before reaching forward, picking up a high-quality, expensive pack of sausages and dumping them in her cart.

“Raven doesn’t believe in store own brand,” he told her, pushing his trolley along. He, though, took the cheap pack of sausages from the freezer, instead. Clarke pushed her trolley alongside him as they walked. “She says they’re practically poison. But she’s never complained when I feed them to her.”

“Does she know you feed her store brand food?” He smiled a little wider.

“Come to think of it, I don’t think so.” They talked absently as they walked around the store, not bothering to separate or say goodbye. It was nice, she thought; companionable, as if they were actually friends. But Clarke had only been in Ark for a few days, and she was fairly sure that making friends wasn’t on her agenda.

“So, did you miss Ark at all?” He asked when they reached the eggs. Clarke watched as he picked up a pack, opening it up first before putting it in his trolley. She shrugged, moving forward and taking her own.

“I guess so – but I don’t remember it very well,” she replied, placing the eggs straight in her cart. He stared at that.

“Hold on – did you check those?” She looked from him to the eggs before shrugging.

“No?” Bellamy audibly sighed, reaching forward and opening the pack of eggs. He then showed them to her.

“See? This one has a crack in it.” He replaced her pack with another, checking the eggs for damage first before placing it in the trolley. “I can’t believe you don’t know how to shop.” Clarke scoffed, strangling her laughter.

“I know how to shop,” she replied indignantly.

“Not for anything important,” he retorted. “Anyway, Ark.”

“Ark,” she nodded, forcing the complete denial of her shopping skills from her mind. “It’s a nice place – did you grow up here?” Bellamy nodded, pushing away from the side of the isle.

“Yeah, me and O. I was going to move to TonDC for university, but then my Mum got sick, and it just made more sense to stay.” Clarke nodded, scanning the shelves as they walked.

“What did you study?”

“History, I teach at the local primary school.” She nodded approvingly, as they walked, until he looked back at her. “What did you study?” Clarke wrinkled up her nose, shrugging.

“At first, medicine,” she replied absently, forcing as much distance into her voice as possible. “Then I switched to art. But I dropped out of uni when I was – nineteen? Twenty?” She stared pointedly away from Bellamy, after that, and he dropped the subject. It was when they were looking at cereals that he spoke again. This time, he stopped his trolley next to the shelves of boxes, and Clarke watched him curiously as he struggled for the right words.

“Why are you back in Ark?” He asked eventually.

“Sorry?” She replied, frowning. Bellamy sighed.

“Why are you back here? I know they’re denying it, but we both know you’re going to leave again – and it’s going to kill Raven to see that happen.” Clarke swallowed, not wanting to meet his gaze – but, at the same time, she never stood down from a fight.

“I’m back here because I want to be,” she replied. “And I’ve told both Finn and Raven very clearly that I’m not staying. I don’t want to hurt them-“

“But you’re going to! You’re going to hurt them because Raven’s already started getting all these ideas in her head about you staying, and getting a proper job, and being a bridesmaid – you know she was talking about you being a bridesmaid?” No, Clarke didn’t know that. She swallowed, biting her tongue for a moment.

“I’ll make it clear with her,” she insisted. He just sighed again.

“You’re going to hurt my friends,” he informed her. “Because you’re a leaver.”

“ _Excuse_ _me_?” While her anger had been subsiding, it was like Bellamy knew exactly what to say to make it boil over once more.

“You’re a leaver,” he repeated, making each word slower and more pronounced. It was obvious on his face that he didn’t want to be having this discussion – that he didn’t want to be saying these words – but he kept going anyway. “Me and my friends – we’re the ones that get left. Clarke, you’re just going to be another tally against that.”

“I am not a leaver,” she replied, her glare ready to burn down villages. “I’ve been left too, Bellamy! And I don’t leave people-“

“You left medicine,” he interrupted. “And art. And then your home and your family – you’re a leaver, and you’re going to leave us just like you left everything else.” It felt like her blood was boiling under her skin, and Clarke knew she wouldn’t be able to have this private argument stay quiet for much longer; that her words would travel over the isles if she continued. Instead, she moved closer to him, staring every dagger she had in her arsenal. Clarke was no match to him on height, but she hoped she was at least a little intimidating all the same.

“You don’t know me,” she said lowly. “And I would appreciate it if you just fuck off, and let me go about my business.” Then she turned, yanking her trolley with her and leaving Bellamy, alone in the cereal aisle.

 

-

 

When Raven returned to her flat, Clarke was sitting on the floor in front of the fridge, placing items on the shelves. She looked up when her friend came in, not even bothering to force a smile.

“You know I’m leaving soon, right?” Clarke asked. She carefully slid the eggs onto the top shelf. Raven paused before replying, and Clarke made sure to stay staring at the fridge.

“Yeah,” Raven said eventually.

 

-

 

She didn’t mention her argument with Bellamy to anyone; just went about her business. She woke up in the morning and had breakfast with Finn, before going to the shop. Clarke had insisted that she be given as many hours working as possible, so she could raise her funds and leave, and Sinclair had been fairly happy to hand over the time.

Work was boring and slow, so Clarke made use of her time, doing inventory and organising the shelves, to take her mind off of Bellamy’s words and the way her skin crawled.

When she returned home, Raven would be getting back and the two of them would cook dinner together. All three friends would then sit on the sofas – for lack of a dining table – and eat, going to bed and starting the day over once again in the morning.

It was a solid routine for Clarke to follow; while she preferred a nomadic lifestyle of quick changes and different routes, it felt easier to have a plan, when she was in a town. However, while she was trying to just follow through with the schedule, she noticed the little things that she was starting to enjoy about being in Ark.

The roads were almost always empty; it was a small town, and people mostly walked or cycled to their destinations. Clarke could drive without traffic or cars lining the side of the street, and she enjoyed that far too much. She liked looking at the flowers, hanging in baskets, and spelling out the town name in multiple places – they reminded her of the ones she used to draw in her classes; each petal painstakingly painted and perfected to make the most beautiful of blooms.

Clarke would drive to work in the morning at the same time the children would bounce along the road, in the direction of Ark Primary, where she knew Bellamy worked. And while that thought struck her with annoyance, it was also nice to the flock of people, heading to the same place.

Likewise, she noticed that on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday afternoons, as she returned from her lunch break, that the elderly of Ark would be hobbling in the direction of the town centre, where the art supply store was; all walking at an awfully slow pace.

But then it got to her; gnawed at the edges of her mind; that she had noticed these things; that she’d stayed for two weeks, and now recognised little idiosyncrasies about Ark and the people in it.

The same was amongst Raven’s friends (Clarke refused to call them her own) when she was dragged to meet them on Friday and Saturday nights at Grounders. She noticed how O was bubbly and excitable, and the way she held her glass with her little finger stuck out, as if she were royalty with a cup of tea. Or Murphy and his dry comments; the way his fingers carded through his hair when he was trying to explain something. Monty always sat on Jasper’s right, and Jasper tapped his knuckles on the table when he wasn’t speaking.

Bellamy, even, rubbed the back of his neck when he was trying to word something properly, and his smile was higher on the right side of his face than the left.

Clarke figured that if she were a writer, these were the types of people she would want to write about.

 

-

 

Ark was, annoyingly, becoming quite homey to Clarke. It first started off when she referred to Raven’s flat as ‘home’ in a conversation with Sinclair, and she stood, jaw gritted, as she thought about what that might have meant. She liked the flowers and the road Raven lived on – Wordsworth Avenue – as well as the coffee shop that O worked at and the way their seats were nearly exclusively arm chairs and sofas.

Clarke didn’t want to settle down, but if she was going to do it anywhere, Ark was as nice a place as any.

Even Bellamy was becoming a fixture, by the end of her third week there. He hadn’t apologised for what he’d said in the supermarket, but she didn’t expect him to, either. While he wasn’t right about her being a leaver, she figured that he was saying it in defence of his friends – the fact that Raven really was trying to put effort into keeping Clarke around.

So, on Saturday, when Raven banged on Clarke’s bedroom door (because she’d accidentally started referring to it as her room and not the spare room), she realised that she was supposed to be attending a barbeque and games day at Bellamy Blake’s home.

Bellamy Blake lived on Austen Road in a multi-storey apartment complex. Clarke followed her friends up, and into his home. They didn’t knock, just pushed open the door and said hello to whoever was in the living room.

Clarke walked in after them, shutting the door behind her and looking around. It was cosy, Bellamy’s apartment, with one wall bare brick and the others plastered and painted. His windows were large, though, with a single door leading to a tiny balcony. Around the room were piles of books, overfilling the bookcase and left on the coffee table or lined up by the wall.

Monty and Jasper had already arrived, sitting on the sofa with Raven and Finn. She heard talking in the kitchen, and turned to see who was in there.

“Clarke, hey,” Miller smiled when she entered.

“Hey Miller,” she replied, leaning against the doorframe. “Murphy.” He nodded in greeting. “So what’s on the agenda for one of these things.” The two boys smiled, and moved towards her, Murphy draping an arm across his shoulder as he led her into the living room. Miller passed her a bottle of beer, as Murphy took a swig and pointed at the TV, mounted on the wall.

“We’re going to destroy our friendships over Mario, Call of Duty and Battlefield,” he informed her, nodding as if this was very serious which, to them, it probably was. “And Bell’s out there, cooking our food.” She glanced at the door to the balcony, propped open with a book on the floor.

“We’re also going to make you regret meeting us,” Miller agreed, coming up on the other side of her. Jasper looked up from the sofa, with a smile.

“Are you any good?” He asked, gesturing to the TV. It was flashing on now, with the Battlefield logo filling up the screen. She shook her head.

“Haven’t played games in years,” she replied. “Don’t really have a TV out on the road.” They nodded understandingly, and Murphy led her to an arm chair, in which she sat on, Murphy on the arm.

“Why are you always driving, anyway?” He asked, glancing down at her. She felt the room quieten a little, as if they weren’t trying to make it obvious that they were listening. She shrugged her shoulders.

“I love it,” she replied. “I love driving and moving around.”

“But why’d you start?” Murphy continued. Although she’d only been around for a few weeks, she knew Murphy taking an interest in someone’s life besides his own was rare. She didn’t know whether to savour it or be suspicious.

“I don’t even know,” she mused, leaning back in her chair. “It was enjoyed driving anyway, and I just wanted to do that, instead of being a doctor or an artist – it was more satisfying.” The room was quiet for a moment before Murphy nodded approvingly.

“I wish I could just drive and not look back,” he told her, and she eyed him carefully – because that didn’t feel like something he would just say and not mean. She didn’t know lots about Murphy; just that he worked three jobs and his parents were dead. His skin was littered with scars, she’d noticed, but they all looked fairly old. Even so, she was worried about that sentence – then again, when she glanced around the room, everyone seemed to be agreeing with him.

“My advice,” she said slowly, thinking about her words. “Would be not to – at least, not for as long as I have.”

“Why not?” Miller asked this, from the floor on the other side of the coffee table.

“Because it’s not healthy,” she replied. No one commented on it, as the game made a sound and Jasper asked who wanted the first round. Then the conversation was forgotten, Murphy looking at her for a moment longer before moving away and heading outside to see Bellamy.

 

-

 

When Clarke went out onto the balcony, she went out of curiosity. Bellamy had been holed up out there most of the day; people wandering out to see him and then coming back inside. O arrived a little late before going to see him, and then looking suitably annoyed when she returned.

Clarke went just to see what was happening.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

It was, as she had thought, a tiny balcony. Barely enough room for three people to stand. But, Bellamy sat, back against the wall next to the door, barbecue on the other end of the metal. He was reading a book and didn’t even look up when she shut the door behind her and sat down, back against the door. Their shoulders almost touched as she turned to look at him.

“It’s a nice view,” Clarke commented, scanning his face and noticing for the first time that he had a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. When he looked up, she turned back to the town, set out before them.

“It is,” he agreed quietly. They lapsed into silence, but Clarke watched him in her peripheral vision, noticing that his book didn’t move, and his head didn’t tilt back down to the pages. “I heard what you said, earlier,” he told her.

“When?”

“With Murphy. You said what you’re doing isn’t healthy.” She nodded, pursing her lips. She’d said it to try and make sure that Murphy didn’t follow her path – but it was true. It was anything but healthy.

“Oh.”

“Why do you do it, then?”

Clarke coughed, eyes fixed on a point in the distance. “I love it.”

“Why isn’t it healthy?”

“I’ve been moving for a year,” she replied, her voice barely audible as the breeze drifted past them. “This is the first time I’ve known anyone long enough to remember their last name.” Bellamy nodded, and she glanced over now. He was already looking at her, concern etched over his face. She didn’t know why; she hadn’t known him long enough for him to feel worried over her. It had only been a few weeks.

“But you’re not going to stay.” It was a statement, not a question. Bellamy already knew the answer.

“No,” she agreed. “My life is out there – not stuck in a single town.”

“What are you running from?”

Clarke gritted her teeth, jaw clenched, and turned back to the view. She wasn’t angry though; she just didn’t like it when people figured her out so easily.  While she could have lied and said that it was nothing, she didn’t want to do that. But Bellamy, of all people, wasn’t going to be the one to hear about it. So, she said nothing, and Bellamy turned back to his book when he gave up waiting.

It had been a couple months out on the road by the time she’d stopped herself from saying that she wasn’t running. She used to repeat it like a mantra _; I’m running from nothing, I’m running from nothing._ But she was. And the mantra fell apart in a much shorter time than it took for her to start saying it.

“Why are you out here?” She asked eventually. He jumped a little; either surprised that she decided to speak, or simply that it had been so long of silence that he’d forgotten about her presence.

“Why are _you_ running?” He countered, but his voice was soft and calm. He wasn’t looking for a fight.

“Why don’t you go inside, with your friends?”

“Why don’t you call them _your_ friends?” Clarke bit the edge of her tongue, leaning her head back against the door. She didn’t want to argue, nor did she want to ruin the good day that they’d all been having.

“I’m not going to stay long enough to make friends,” she replied, almost a whisper.

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“Bullshit.” Bellamy’s book was in his lap and he stared at her now, deep brown eyes boring into her soul. “They’re your friends,” he told her. “They see you as their friend, and they are yours. Stop trying to separate yourself from everyone – like you fit in a different category. We’re all just trying to make it along, okay? You’re not the only one running.”

“What are you running from?” They were sitting up now, staring at each other with caution, not anger.

“I’m running from nothing,” he bit back. “I’m still here, in Ark, with my baby sister and my suitcase of regrets. Out of the two of us, _you’re_ the one running.” She didn’t reply, though, just stared at him. “I have to go in for a review at school – they don’t think I’m worth keeping on.” Clarke stared openly now, mouth parted a little. Still, though, she didn’t reply.

 

-

 

“Are you and Bellamy just not friends?” Raven asked at breakfast. Clarke shrugged, digging her spoon into her cereal and avoiding a response. She’d decided that every time things seemed like they were looking up, really life was preparing a rock slide for her. It was like she missed her footing all over again.

It was the day after the all-day-games-and-barbecue, and Clarke didn’t know what she was doing. She was wearing the same clothes, over and over, from her limited supply, and yet she wasn’t buying more. She was in a monotonously boring job, and yet she didn’t go and find a new one. She was surrounded by people who were good for her – and she was ignoring their advances at every turn.

She was just fucking everything up.

 

-

 

Even though Scout was supposedly running great, according to Raven, she still broke down as Clarke was driving around the town. By ‘around’, she very literally meant it; circling the town like a hawk, trying to clear her mind.

She purposely left her things back at Raven’s to avoid the temptation of leaving, but even so, it gnawed at her flesh.

Then, as she saw a turn off that would lead her to a motorway, Scout made the decision to kick the bucket, right then and there. Once again, Clarke was thankful for the empty Ark roads, in which she could turn off onto the side of without being watched.

She popped the hood, coughing at the smoke and groaning to herself. It was getting dark; the sun almost set, and she was expected to be back soon. Clarke kicked the front tire in annoyance.

“Oh shit, no, baby, I didn’t mean it,” she cooed, patting at the metal with regret. She rummaged through her bag, next, for her phone, turning it on and swiping away all of the texts and missed calls. She knew that most of them would be from Wells – who she hadn’t spoken to in a couple of months; it impressed her that he was still trying. However, only one or two would be from her mother, and she just didn’t want to see that name pop up on her screen.

Clarke hit Raven’s contact, pressing her phone to her ear. “Raven?” She asked when it switched through.

“Clarke?”

“Yeah – Scout just broke down on the outskirts of town.”

“Shit,” Raven sighed. “I can’t come and pick you up – Finn and I have tickets for-“

“Don’t worry about it then,” she replied, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “I’ll walk back.”

“No – I’ll call someone to pick you up. We’ll get Scout in the morning, okay?” Clarke gave over her location before hanging up, and to tune out the silence, she turned on the stereo.

 _When you’re young you always think the sun is going to shine,_ the speakers crooned. Bon Jovi filled the truck and Clarke tipped her head back, shutting her eyes _. There will come a day-_

“When you have to say hello to goodbye,” she sang along. Her voice was quiet at first before coming louder throughout the chorus. “Sit down my son take my hand, look me in the eye.” Images of her father, sitting next to her in their car, driving to Polis, filled Clarke. His smile and the low rumble of his voice. “Take these words, promise me-“ she clenched her fists and the flashes of that trip. “You’ll live before you die!”

 

-

 

A car parked directly behind her, and Clarke flicked off the radio, watching in the rear view mirror. To her disappointment, the figure who stepped out was no other than Bellamy Blake. She sighed as she pushed the door open, slinging her backpack over one shoulder.

“Oh sorry,” he said sarcastically when he saw her. “Do you want someone else to come and save you?” Clarke rolled her eyes.

“You’re my knight in shining armour,” she bit back, locking the truck and stuffing the keys into her pocket. Bellamy mock-bowed.

“Anything for you, Princess.”

The car ride started off pretty tense, the two of them sitting in silence with their jaws locked and their gaze firmly set in front of them. Then, when Bellamy slowed down for a red light, he glanced over.

“Sorry,” he muttered. Clarke turned to look at him.

“What was that?” She asked.

“You heard me, I’m not saying it again.” Clarke paused before nodding.

“Thanks,” she replied.

“I don’t know you well enough to say that you’re a leaver, or whatever,” he continued, glancing at her. His head was ducked, and she saw him rub the back of his neck, a smile pulling a the corners of her lips. “And I shouldn’t really be judging you for your lifestyle – if it’s what you want to be doing.”

“Thank you.” He nodded and pressed on the accelerator, the light ahead turning green. “Sorry about being rude.”

“All forgiven,” he replied. The two sat in silence for a little longer, before she glanced over.

“Have you had your review, yet?” She asked, sitting up. Bellamy shook his head, but he looked more relaxed.

“Arseholes have scheduled it for next week,” he commented. “They put it on the inset day.” Clarke laughed, resting her head back.

“Arseholes,” she agreed. After that, their conversations let up. They smiled and Clarke found herself laughing more, Bellamy joining in. She noticed that she liked the way his voice sounded when he laughed; she liked the way his face lit up and his eyes shined in the dying light. Even so, as they knocked down the wall they’d built up between each other, Clarke had a single thought on her mind.

_I’m leaving soon, I’m leaving soon, I’m leaving soon._

 

-

 

Being on good terms with Bellamy Blake changed things for Clarke. She was more willing to go out on the Friday and Saturday, and on the way home from work, she even stopped off in shops, picking out new clothes and letting them burn a hole in the money she’d earned. She was smiling more; Bellamy was actually quite funny and they ended up in his apartment on Wednesday with Monty and Jasper, as he tried to mark papers while the boys taught her how to play Battlefield.

“For the next games day,” Monty had informed her, and Clarke only dwelled on the thought that she would be leaving for a moment.

On the Friday at Grounders, Raven brought someone new to the booth; a familiar, surly man who Clarke recognised from the garage. He had been working on her car when she took it in, and had told her a lot of car-jargon that she entirely didn’t understand. Even so, Scout was running perfectly now.

“This is Lincoln. He works at the garage with me,” Raven smiled, just the way she had when she brought Clarke over. Clarke wondered if this was how Raven worked; she pulled people into the group and made them stay, even when they had no intention to. Because, as she realised, she’d been in Ark for a month – which was _years_ in her time.

But Lincoln sat down next to Octavia, and they struck up a conversation about motorcycles – apparently Octavia was saving up for one – and Bellamy moved because it was sickening him how they were already flirting. He sat with Clarke and they discussed his job and ancient history, which she’d always liked for the long names and quirky stories.

She completely forgot, when he told her that Ark Museum had an exhibition on in a few weeks’ time about the Greeks, that she was supposed to be leaving.

 

-

 

After five weeks in Ark, Clarke woke up the day she knew Bellamy was going to be reviewed, aware that she was in too deep. She missed the road; craved the open skies and new faces. It was a little past five AM, and it hit her that she didn’t want to be around any longer, if she was going to hurt them when she left. She could hurt them now, sure – but if she stayed any longer it would be far worse.

She packed up her things, creeping around the room, and left the room in the way she’d found it. That bedroom was not hers, Clarke reminded herself – it was a spare room; the one O used to live in.

She rushed down the stairwell; noticing that the trips up didn’t seem as bad as they used to, before heading outside. Birds chirped in the trees that lined the pavement, and Clarke breathed in the crisp, morning air. She pulled her phone out of her backpack as she walked towards Scout, noticing that it was turned on. She’d missed many calls, and there were more unread texts, and she only clicked on the icon for a moment, reading the top one that had been sent the evening before.

 **Wells** : _Harper agreed to marry me. Come home for the wedding._

Her heart clenched in her chest, and she stopped on the pavement, regaining her breath. He’d always been crazy about her, she remembered.

She shoved her duffle bag into the bed of the truck, before climbing into the front. Her backpack was in the passenger side foot well and her phone in the drinks holder in the middle of the dashboard. Clarke wasted no time in starting up the car and pulling out onto the road.

 _Wells is getting married,_ she thought _. I have to go home for that. I can’t be in Ark while he’s getting married._

It took only twenty minutes to reach the outskirts of town, the place where she’d broken down, days beforehand. This time, though, Scout pulled out onto the road towards the motorway with no problems. As she drove, she switched on the stereo, her Bon Jovi playlist blasting through the speakers once more. Clarke opened the window, leaning back in her seat and feeling like she used to; the world was passing her and she loved it; the wind slapping her face and hair flying around.

She felt lighter than she had in a while; less tied down than before. But her heart still hurt, and she wasn’t sure it was over Wells and Harper, anymore. She continued to drive, though, joining in with the chorus.

“It’s my life!” She warbled. “It’s now or never, I ain’t gonna live forever – I just want to live while I’m alive.” She sighed into the music and into the driving, feeling like a missing piece of her had returned. Her jaw was tense, though; like she knew she still wasn’t whole. “My heart is like an open highway, like Frankie said, I did it my way-“

_I just wanna live while I’m alive. It’s my life._

 

-

 

Clarke drove until she was hungry, which meant it was about seven in the morning when she pulled up to a rest stop. She first filled up the tank of Scout, knowing that long drives can take a lot out of a car, and then wandered into the shop to pay with her earnings from Sinclair’s store. Absently, she realised that she might need to text in to say that she quit.

In the queue, Clarke pulled out her phone. There were a couple of new texts since she’d checked a few hours beforehand, and she resolved to read them after paying.

It was after she placed her items down, gave her money over, and sat back in the car at the now-empty rest stop, that she looked at the texts.

 **Finn** : _Hey, where r u?_

 **Raven** : _Where are you?_

 **Raven** : _Why’d you take your things?_

 **Finn** : _R u coming back?_

 **Raven** : _Where the fuck are you?_

Then, about half an hour after the original texts, sent around six, a few more had come in.

 **Octavia** : _raven says ur gone wtf clarke_

 **Monty** : _why did raven text about you being missing?_

 **Monty** : _are you missing?_

 **Bellamy** : _seriously?_

Clarke locked her phone, swallowing, and resting her head back against the seat. She wasn’t all that surprised that Raven had gotten up so early – Clarke had noticed she was an early riser. But that was just another reason for her to be gone. Clarke wanted to drive; that’s all she wanted in the world, and if she went back and tried to leave again, there would be more hurt feelings.

And if she went back and stayed – well, she didn’t know how she would cope with that. She pulled out from the pumps, only to stop again before moving back out onto the road.

Clarke was doubting her every move – she was a bird by nature; she had to soar free, she couldn’t be cooped up in a cage. But, she questioned, was Ark all that much of a cage?

She’d been under the assumption for the past year that everywhere she stopped was going to hold her down and break her wings – but maybe she was just doing that herself. Maybe the towns were all lovely and fine, but she was limiting herself.

Bellamy had even said it – she quit medicine and art after barely any time. She just packed up and left when it got too hard or she got bored; she didn’t stick around to face any of it. Clarke didn’t want to think about why that was; why she felt the need to move and change.

She thought back to the drive that started her obsession; the one from Ark to Polis, a couple of hours on the road, just her and her Dad. They drove, singing along to Bon Jovi and pretending that they didn’t know where they were going, when they did. Her father knew the entire time that Clarke wasn’t going to see Ark again – but he acted like he didn’t, like this was just another drive, but one more entertaining and soulful than the others.

Then she wondered about his death; the cancer that hit his brain first and took him within months. She thought of her mother, crying _they said he would have a year, not four months,_ and the way she threw herself into her work.

And then she remembered Bellamy’s words: _what are you running from?_

It was clear and simple, to Clarke, and she pulled out of her parking spot, pressing down on the accelerator.

 

-

 

“Bellamy!” Clarke called out the moment she opened the truck door. He was standing by his car, keys in hand, when he looked up. Clarke slammed her door shut and jogged over to him, eyes wide. “Did I miss it? How’d it go?” He eyed her for a moment, blank expression but eyes wary.

“They let me keep my job,” he told her. Her face broke out in a smile.

“Good,” she replied. “Great. Good. You know, if you were still in there, I was going to barge into the meeting like they do in the films?” Bellamy raised an eyebrow, his lips turning up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you know when they do that speech? Like, the defining moment of the film? They talk about how great the person is, and why they don’t deserve to be fired, and how they maybe kinda sorta like them – and that it means that they should keep their job?”

“You-“

“And then the person who’s actually supposed to be having the meeting gets all amazed, going, _you maybe kinda sorta like me?_ And the person’s like, _well, yeah_ , and they kiss in the middle of the meeting and love overcomes all, and they get their job back and the bosses are amazed.”

“Clar-“

“And it’s a pretty decent ending to the film even though you saw it coming-“ Bellamy clapped his hand over her mouth, his eyes wide.

“Clarke,” he said, lowering his hand. “You maybe kinda sorta like me?” She breathed out a smile, shrugging.

“Well, yeah,” she grinned. Bellamy moved forward, his head ducking down to reach her level. When his lips met with hers, she felt like a bird again; as if she was soaring.

 

-

 

“You left, didn’t you?” Bellamy asked at dinner that night. Clarke nodded, placing her fork on her plate and looking over at him. “But you came back?”

“Yeah – I guess I thought about what I was running from, and figured that I shouldn’t be running from it so much.”

“What were you running from?”

“I suppose,” she sighed, glancing at the ceiling. “It was this reality, in which my was father dead and my mother was at work seven days a week after remarrying this other workaholic, and medicine felt too difficult and art wasn’t giving me enough of a release – and the world was going on all around me, and I just wasn’t a part of it.

“But, I realised that not all of it was true.” He frowned questioningly. “Yeah, my dad’s dead and my mum lives at work while my step-dad lives in my house – I didn’t like medicine or art; but the world is still spinning, and I can actually try to live in it. I get to be a part of it.”

“So you’re going to stay?” She nodded.

“For now.”

“Is that the best you can do?” She turned to him once more, leaning forward and pressing her lips against his, slowly.

“For now,” she repeated, with a smile.

‘For now’ turned out to be a lot longer than she planned, because the next time she hopped into her car with a long journey ahead of her, it was to go to Wells and Harper’s wedding, and even then, she drove right back to Ark the day after.

**Author's Note:**

> This took like six hours to write, and I should have been doing my masses of homework. This felt more important, somehow. I'm not massively pleased with the ending, but then again, I never am. I don't feel like I even have Clarke pegged down in this fic, like she's all over the place to me.  
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate it. I would also love it if you clicked the kudos button, or left me a comment - tell me what you thought, what you liked and didn't etc.
> 
> THANKS.


End file.
